


Hey Blue Eyes

by Onlyhuman_100



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, But also, College Student!Ian, Eventual Smut, Jealous!Mickey, M/M, Mentioned bipolar, Slow Burn, Waiter!Mickey, dancer!Ian, diner au, havent decided yet - Freeform, more sexual frustration than angst ngl, or - Freeform, stripper!Ian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-17 11:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11850465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlyhuman_100/pseuds/Onlyhuman_100
Summary: Mickey had taken the graveyard shift because really, who comes to diners at 2 AM. Oh wait, apparently the universe thought differently, because the redhead had been showing up there every day for a week at unreasonably late hours, ordering coffee of all things, the asshole.Or the 'listen this paper's due tomorrow and you're the only place serving 24 hour coffee' AU :)Next chapter coming soon if people like it / lemme know!! X





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback really appreciated!! So are any suggestions/requests for future chapters :)) xx

The asshole strolled in just as Mickey had decided to close up early and head home. It was past midnight. The diner had been empty for hours, clearing out after the dinner rush, which is exactly why Mickey had campaigned for the graveyard shift at the 24 hour coffee place when he had first started working there. So naturally, when he heard the shrill bell above the diner ring, Mickey looked up to the ceiling and rolled his eyes, because really, did God hate him this much?

The source of his misery had sat himself down at the far corner of the room and was busy fiddling with his laptop, so Mickey took a moment to assess. He watched in mild amusement as the guy's shoulders slumped so far down in the booth that Mickey almost thought he was trying to drown himself in that oversized sweatshirt he was tugging at. His hair was lazily ruffled, red tips haphazardly pushed around so they intertwined in a fiery, tangled mess. He was fidgeting, as though trying to arrange his body into negative space, and Mickey concluded that everything about the redhead screamed kicked puppy. He'd be fucked if he ever said it out loud, but Mickey admitted to himself, silently and begrudgingly, that the tired looking lump in the corner wasn't a pain to look at. What-the-fuck-ever. 

Movement caught his eye and Mickey's gaze travelled down to the stranger's hands. Long fingers were resting on the table, tapping out a melody to some old song he probably didn't know he remembered. He couldn't seem to keep still. Mickey arched an eyebrow when he noticed the redhead's knuckles were littered with colourful bruises. So the kid's got an attitude then. He couldn't help wondering how the other guy looke-

"You done yet or d'you want me to twirl for you?" 

Mickey was ripped so violently out of his musings he dropped the pen he'd been fiddling with. Fuck. Dragging his gaze back up reluctantly, and not lingering slightly too long on some areas fuck you very much, he was met with a pair of critical yet playful eyes, mouth twitching upwards slightly as if he was proud of his own joke. Yeah. Everything about the guy spelt barely concealed wounds. Everything. Except his eyes. Mickey didn't know if it was the glare of the laptop or the reflecting lights, but the kid's eyes glinted fiercely with something akin to fire, gaze defiant - an air of pride just daring to be challenged. Mickey's fingers twitched at his side, but he blamed that on his nicotine dependence. He briefly wondered if he could see flecks of gold swimming in the piercing green of the man's eyes, but didn't want to stare long enough to find out. Fuck he needed a beer.

"What'll it be?" He bit out harshly as he walked over to where the guy had set up shop.

"Hey, uh, sorry for-" the stranger gestured vaguely to his laptop before adding, "it's just this fucking paper's due tomorrow and my professor's an asshole, and you're the only place open this late so.." He trailed off, glancing up apologetically. 

"Good for you, college, now what'll it be?" Mickey asked, rough voice dripping with sarcasm, not bothering to sound interested. 

The guy raised his eyebrows for a second, looking slightly put out by his lack of cooperation, before apparently giving up. "Just a coffee I guess.", he muttered, resolutely not looking at Mickey anymore.

"Coming right up."

~

He came back the night after that, just as Mickey's phone bleared 2 AM. 

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" He asked as he approached the booth, no real bite to his tone. 

The redhead looked up in surprise before letting out a quiet chuckle. "Guess not", he stated, shooting Mickey a shy smile. "Coffee?". 

"Sure thing, Red."

Walking away, Mickey had the feeling this wouldn't be the last time he'd use the nickname, if the redhead's pleased smile was anything to go by.

~

"You can take those out, you know". 

Mickey glanced up from his phone but didn't grace the redhead with a verbal reply, only pulling out one headphone and arching his eyebrow. The guy had approached the counter warily, mug in hand, presumably seeking a refill.

"What was that, fireball?" he muttered, reaching over and pouring some lukewarm coffee into the customer's cup. The redhead had come to the diner three nights in a row and Mickey had taken it upon himself to insult the man's hair every chance he got. So he was bored. Sue him. The guy let out a surprised chuckle at the nickname but didn't call him out on it. Whatever, Mickey'd just try harder. "Your headphones", he repeated, "you can take 'em out, I mean considering I'm the only one in here and I don't mind."

A grunt of acknowledgement was all Mickey offered in return, before he returned the stray headphone to his ear and resumed fiddling with his phone. 

Mickey lasted ten minutes before he pulled his headphones off gingerly. He huffed out a nervous breath - and fuck you he wasn't nervous it's just an expression - when the music started playing at a low volume, echoing around the diner. It took him another ten minutes before he risked a glance towards the redhead, who, to Mickey's silent gratitude, was focused intently on his laptop, but whose fingers were tapping out the beat to the familiar rhythm reaching his ears. Neither one mentioned it. Whatever. Like Mickey cared.

~ 

"You know I took this shift because no one in their right mind ever comes in for a coffee at midnight" Mickey said pointedly, fixing the guy with an accusing glare as he strutted into the diner for the seventh time that week. 

The redhead stilled for a moment, back straightening defensively and Mickey wondered for a second where he fucked up. Then the guy seemed to shake it off and just fixed Mickey with a glowing smirk. "Guess I'm just special" he purred, snatching the cup of coffee out of Mickey's hands before he had a chance to set it down on the table. 

"Yeah, Red. Sure you are."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is the fourth time you've asked for a refill, Red. Do I need to be concerned?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Another chapter for ya :) I was thinking that in the next chapter Ian could bring Lip with him and Mickey would get really jealous cause he didn't know who he was - thoughts?? Feedback really appreciated!! xxx

Ian almost dropped his coffee - and wouldn't that have been great - when the dark haired waiter sat down opposite him in the booth he was currently living in. He had taken to coming here every night for two weeks, right after his shift at the Fairy Tale finished. Working nights had begun to take a toll so Ian opted to get his essays done at the same time. That way, he could sleep through the day and his meds schedule would remain intact. It probably wasn't the healthiest lifestyle but hey, he was a Gallagher. 

The place was the diner equivalent of a dive, Ian had concluded on the night of his first visit, grease glistening off the countertops and the vague smell of cigarette smoke hanging like a tangible presence in the air. The coffee wasn't that great, either if Ian were to analyse it. Which he couldn't, because if he admitted the coffee was shitty and too strong, then he'd have to find another reason for trudging here every night. A reason other than the pair of crystal blue eyes now watching him defiantly from across the table. Fuck had he been starin-

"Paint a fucking picture while you're at it, carrot top", the waiter barked, scowling at the redhead. The threatening glare succeeded in snapping Ian out of his momentary brain failure, and he immediately tried to rearrange his features into what he hoped was a disinterested expression. Judging by the unimpressed look he received for his efforts, it hadn't worked. "Phone's dead", the man opposite him continued, choosing to let Ian's inner turmoil pass without comment, gesturing vaguely to the plug in the wall. "Your pale ass is sitting at the only table with an outlet."

~

"Why nights?" 

Fuck. When had Ian lost the ability to keep his mouth shut. He hadn't even lasted five minutes before blurting the question out. It slipped off his tongue in a tumbled mess and for a second Ian thought maybe the waiter hadn't heard it. 

"What was that, mumbles?"

No such luck.

Well he was fucked already and the worst the other man could do was move to another table so here goes nothing. "I was just curious, uh, why you work nights, which on second thought, you really don't have to answer I don'-

He cut himself off and glanced up. The waiter's eyebrows were raised, an amused glint in his eye, so Ian forced out the breath he'd been holding.

"Already told ya. The place is fucking deserted at night. But they pay the same as if I was dealing with screaming kids all day. Fucking lucked out, man." 

"Yeah, uh sorry for ruining that" Ian muttered sheepishly, catching the waiter's eyes.

"'S not a problem" the guy said, quieter somehow, slower. And Ian blamed the caffeine for the way his nerves tingled. 

He nodded and turned his attention back to the screen.

"Ay not so fast, your turn. Why nights, Red?" Fuck Ian hadn't thought this through. What was he supposed to say? He was never too great at coming up with lies on the spot. Groaning internally, he looked back up again. 

"I work nights, finish right before coming here." He mumbled, praying for spontaneous combustion or anything that would get him out of this conversation.

"Do anything interesting?" The waiter asked hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable with having to put this much effort into a conversation. 

"Nope." 

"Yeah, alright", he heard the waiter mutter to himself as the guy stood up, apparently under the impression that Ian didn't want to talk. Or that Ian was an asshole. Oh fuck what if he thought Ian was being a complete asshole?! He couldn't just let him walk away!

"Wait.", he blurted out. The man stilled. Shit. If he had read the situation wrong... He was too exhausted to get into a physical fight. "I work at a club. In, uh, Boystown." Silence. Fuck. He had just blown it. Of course the guy would react like this I mean his godamn knuckle tattoos were a dead giveaway for one. 

Just as Ian was making a mental list of all the other possible coffee shops he could start going to, the waiter up and snorted. Ian jerked his head up in surprise when the guy sat back down slowly. 

"You a bartender?", the waiter asked, eyebrows climbing close to his hairline. 

"Dancer", Ian bit out, spine straightening instinctively, ready for a fight.

But all he received was a low whistle. Then another snort. So Ian considered it a win. 

~

"This is the fourth time you've asked for a refill, Red, do I need to be concerned?" 

"Can't insult you. Too busy. This is half my grade.", Ian replied, glaring accusingly at his laptop screen as though it had personally offended him. 

He heard a low chuckle and looked up to find the waiter peering over his shoulder at the laptop, brows furrowed and nose scrunched as though Ian's paper was some unwelcome insect he was itching to get rid off. 

"Name's Mickey by the way", the waiter stated nonchalantly as he ambled back to the kitchen. "You know, just in case you need to ask me to call an ambulance for you cause of all that caffeine", he said through a smirk, glancing back at Ian. 

Ian, in turn, who had been staring at the waiter's ass as he was walking away, snapped his eyes back up guiltily. 

"Mickey" he said to himself quietly when the other man had disappeared info the kitchen. Ian decided he liked the way the name rolled of his tongue and he smiled softly to himself, essay sitting abandoned at the other end of the table. 

~ 

Ian couldn't decide where to settle his eyes. He kept flicking them back and forth between a blushing Mickey, and the steaming cup of coffee that had already been on his usual table before he had even walked into the diner. It wasn't even that big a deal, he told himself. Mickey probably wanted coffee earlier and had poured an extra cup. The idea wasn't enough to keep the grin off his face.

"Calm the fuck down, firecracker. You're here every night at the exact same time", the waiter scoffed, glaring at nothing in particular. 

He didn't know if it was the distinct flush creeping up Mickey's neck, or the adrenaline he was still feeling from the club, but Ian suddenly felt brave. So he strolled right up to Mickey, who was leaning with his back against the counter, and stopped a few inches away. Mickey, for his part, raised a skeptical eyebrow and fixed Ian with an unmoved expression, but he had stopped fidgeting and his blue eyes were now following Ian's every move. Ian took a step closer, placing a hand on the counter by Mickey's hip, effectively caging him in. 

"What are you doing, Red?" He huffed out roughly.

"Ian." 

Ian was close enough to tell that Mickey was breathing shallowly. "What was that?"

"My name's Ian", he repeated, a barely concealed smirk on his face.

"Great. Real pleased for you." But Mickey's voice was unsteady, so his sarcasm laced tone fell on deaf ears. "Well then. Ian. What are you doing?" He repeated quietly, meeting the other man's eyes.

Ian didn't let himself think about the way his name sounded when it was breathed out like that and stared back for a few seconds. Then he leaned in ever so slightly, and Mickey's breath hitched. Just a touch away- 

Only Ian swerved at the last minute, reaching behind Mickey to grab the sugar off the counter, before pulling back from the other man. "You forgot the sugar", he purred, feigning innocence as he turned around. Walking back, he peered over his shoulder and grinned when he saw Mickey release a shaky breath. 

~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The guy Ian was with looked like an asshole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback really appreciated!! Things start heating up soon don't worry! :)) xxxx

"You forgot the sugar." Smartass. Mickey needed to get a fucking grip. He couldn't even figure out what the fuck he did to land himself in a situation that saw him backed up against a counter by a tall ass redhead. All he knew was that any hopes of keeping his cool vanished the minute Ian stepped just a little too close. So, yeah, Mickey found it hard to meet Ian's eyes, mostly because he was too busy trying to keep his focus off Red's lips. His apparent issue with breathing though? That was all on his nicotine dependence. Yeah. How the fuck did Ian even figure out what he was into? 

God if his dad could see him now. 

~ 

"Can't stay tonight, fireball. Gotta be somewhere", he bit out as soon as he heard the door open. Ian stilled for a second, disappointment flashing briefly across his face. Mickey had to give him credit though, the guy recovered quickly. If Mickey didn't know better, he would've thought the redhead hadn't even heard him.

"Have I been downgraded back to fireball?" Ian chuckled with an easy smile.

He didn't reply.

"You were serious about having plans?"

Mickey offered a noncommittal grunt. 

"Look, if this is about the other night-"

"We're closed Red."

Mickey's hands stayed clenched while Ian stared at him, confused, and angry. And so beautiful. They clenched even harder when he heard Ian scoff and turn around. It was only when he heard the unmistakable slam of the door that he moved to rub both hands over his face, cursing himself and hating Ian for making him feel like an asshole. 

~ 

"Serious question. How have you lived with brain damage without me noticing?" Mandy shouted, kicking at every part of her brother she could reach. 

"Ay, ow Jesus. What the fuck?" Mickey huffed out as Mandy landed a hard punch to his gut. He had called Mandy right after Ian left, asking if she wanted to hang out. He vaguely remembered standing outside her apartment with a six pack of beer, telling himself he wouldn't mention it. He should've known better at this point. Anything and everything that was on his mind came crashing past his lips whenever Mandy was around. She was his normal. That was his theory. A person could cope with a hole lot of shit if they just had a semblance of normal in their lives. Mandy was it for him. He hoped she felt the same. 

"Why the fuck did you do that? You. Emotionally. Unavailable. Fucker." She punctuated every annoyed syllable with a punch to his shoulder. 

"I don't know alright!" Mickey snapped, scrambling up from her attack. "I-I just - it felt like", he cut himself off abruptly at the same time that Mandy stilled. Neither of them had heard his voice so unsteady since they were kids.

"Mick." Mandy sighed, softer now, standing up so she could force him to look at her. "Dad isn't here, alright? You don't need to do this anymore." She looked sad, desperate for what she was saying to reach his ears. And standing there, throat constricted and mouth shut because he didn't trust himself to talk, Mickey didn't think he had ever loved her more. 

"Yeah. Hand me the fucking beer alright?"

~

He could do this. Is what Mickey had been repeating to himself over and over when Ian strolled in to the diner. Except for the first time since he had first come in, he wasn't alone. Mickey almost laughed out loud, because really, where in hell did he even get off thinking he had even had a fighting chance?

They were standing too close, but they never stumbled, like they'd been doing it for so long they could predict the other's every move. The guy he was with looked like an  
asshole. That's all Mickey had time to draw conclusions on in the few seconds he spared to look him up and down, before his gaze zeroed right back in on the redhead.

He had always laughed at the expression, but looking back on it, in that moment, Mickey could have sworn he saw red tinging the edges of his vision as he stalked over to where the two were now making themselves comfortable in Ian's usual booth. 

Ian looked up at him then, smile faltering. "Hey", he said, tone hitching a little at the end, making it sound like a question. "You gonna kick me out again?", he added, this time with a noticeable edge to his tone.

Mickey scoffed, unmoved. "Wouldn't want to ruin your date now, would I?", he bit out, flicking his gaze to the guy on his left, who coughed uncomfortably, straightening like he was about to interrupt. 

"Dunno. Would you?" Ian inquired challengingly, beating his date to the punch. The guy furrowed his brows, looked at Ian, then at Mickey, back at Ian, but decided to remain silent. And if Mickey's eyes weren't laser focused on Ian, he might've caught the faint, knowing smirk the guy was aiming the redhead's way. 

"Blow me". Admittedly, it wasn't his best work. Ian would just have to do what he pleased with that response. The guy on his left snickered a little. "Don't have all day, princess. What'll it be?" Mickey grunted.

"Oh right, gotta get back to all your other customers." And there it was. The sarcasm laced insult from the stranger took a moment for Mickey's brain to register, since apparently all Mickey's brain was good for these days was zeroing in on the redhead that now looked slightly nervous. Yep. Definitely an asshole. Mickey hoped the side long glance he gave him was enough, because even the minimal action had him shoving his hands in his pockets. He was a second away from throwing punches, but settled for raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Ian. 

"Just two coffees", the redhead said, all flair and disinterest, matching Mickey's eyebrow raise. 

Mickey jerked his head in a barely passable nod and stalked back to the kitchen.

~ 

Ian liked to speak with his hands. He waved them around eccentrically and rambled at what looked like an unreasonable speed. He tried in vain to retain some of the coffee's heat, long fingers curling around his cup while the other tapped out an unfamiliar beat against his thigh. These were the things Mickey was vaguely aware of while he tried desperately to not get caught glaring at the back of asshole's head. 

They had been sitting there for an hour, chatting comfortably, shoving each other playfully and smiling easily, while Mickey parked himself at the counter, breathing hard and trying to figure out what the fuck he was so upset about. He was feeling a headache starting to kick in. 

"Hey waiter", asshole called, waving him over. Fuck. 

"You called?" Mickey drawled lazily as he slowly approached the booth. 

"Yeah, this should cover the coffee" the guy stated, handing over a note and standing up. "Oh and can you get this hot piece of ass some of that pie to go?" He added coyly, winking at Ian as he walked to the door, while Mickey practically gaped after him. "I'll be outside babe". And If Mickey didn't know any better, he could've sworn the choked gasp Ian let out wasn't due to being complimented. 

The ten second silence that followed was a tangible heavy weight on Mickey's shoulders. In those ten seconds, Mickey realised ten things. They were alone. Ian was standing too close. Ian's cologne smelt vaguely of vanilla. Ian was trying to catch his eye. The nail marks in his palm from where he had spent the last hour clenching his fists were stinging. He could taste blood in his mouth from where he had sunk his teeth into his lower lip. The only exit in the diner was too far away at that moment. If he didn't get to an aspirin quickly, the slight thrum in his head would soon start pounding. Fuck whoever thought graveyard shifts meant no drama. Ian was talking. 

Wait, shit. Ian was talking. He was calling his name to be more precise. 

He huffed out a harsh breath and looked up, eyes wasting no time in locking down on Ian's hesitant expeession. He lasted three seconds before he jerked his head back down and turned around. "Boyfriend's outside. Don't wanna keep him waiting." He was aiming for nonchalance, a throwaway line. It came out like more of a mix between a growl and a sneer. Close enough. 

"Why so hung up on him?" Ian challenged, and Mickey could hear his footsteps trailing behind him as he walked to the kitchen.

"Couldn't care less if I tried." Mickey grumbled, trying to figure out a way out of this particular conversation. Fuck Mandy and her useless advice. 

"Sounds like you do-" Ian muttered to himself, just as Mickey spun round and shoved the redhead backwards. 

"Watch yourself", he growled lowly, stepping too close, forcing Ian back against the sink. The redhead recover quickly though, grabbing onto Mickey's shirt collar and tugging him forwards roughly as he straightening his back a little, making himself taller. And suddenly they were breathing the same coffee scented air. Mickey's breath hitched and his gaze flickered between the hand bunched up in his shirt and Ian's curious eyes, not knowing where to settle. He was vaguely aware of Ian's forehead almost touching his, and how he could feel Ian's heated gaze tracking his lips as he bit them, no doubt reopening the cut. And just when he was about to attempt to extract himself from the predicament he was in, he heard it. Barely audible and hesitant, but piercing the tense silence all the same.

"He's my brother." 

"What?" Mickey snapped. Or breathed out. What the fuck ever. 

"The presumed boyfriend you just spent the last hour glaring at. 'S my older brother." Ian murmured, tugging slightly at Mickey's shirt until the other looked up at him. 

"Brother." Mickey stated slowly, narrowing his eyes sceptically. 

"Brother." Ian echoed softly, and somehow pulling Mickey in even closer. 

The loud car honk coming from outside took a minute to penetrate the bubble of anticipation the two had wrapped themselves in. But when it did, Mickey pulled back slowly, stepping away. "Your brother's waiting. You should go." 

Mickey watched smugly as Ian's eyes flashed in disappointment. "Yeah." He muttered dejectedly, pushing off the counter and walking slowly towards the door. 

"Hey Red."

Ian's hand stilled on the door handle. 

"Am I gonna see you tomorrow?" He mumbled, resolutely staring anywhere but at the redhead.

"Depends. D'you wanna see me tomorrow?" Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Bought some more of that coffee that only you like. Someone has to drink it." Mickey chuckled teasingly, but there was a hitch in his voice that betrayed how nervous he felt.

Ian stared at him for a second, mouth slightly parted as he opened the door. Mickey didn't get a reply, but the shit eating grin Ian aimed his way led him to believe he'd have company tomorrow night. 

The smile he offered in return was one he hadn't felt on his face in a long time. 

~


End file.
